


Tea for Two

by StormLeviosa



Series: In Another Life [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Arab Damian Wayne, Batfamily (DCU), Cooking, Damian Wayne Feels, Damian Wayne-centric, Damian loves his Grandpa 2020, Domestic Fluff, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Good Grandparent Alfred Pennyworth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26031283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormLeviosa/pseuds/StormLeviosa
Summary: Their apartment is full of smiles now. It is because of Pennyworth, he is sure.Damian did not realise how much he'd missed Pennyworth until he came back. He slotted into their little family like the puzzle piece you do not know is missing. It was pleasant, having a grandfather he did not need to fear, and Pennyworth was all that and more.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne
Series: In Another Life [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1876492
Comments: 9
Kudos: 182
Collections: Damian Loves His Grandpa Challenge 2020, Greatest Batfam Fics to Ever Exist





	Tea for Two

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the 'Damian Loves his Grandpa' challenge on tumblr (run by batfam fic find, I think) and just had to do it.  
> This takes place somewhat concurrently with the end of Sticks and Stones (the bit where Alfred moves in with Dick and Damian) and I hadn't really thought about writing it but it fits so perfectly I couldn't _not_ write it to be honest.  
> It also fills the bingo square 'found family' so that's nice.

Damian hates coming home on Fridays. Grayson ‘works’ (plays with small children like the grown-up child he is) late and isn’t there when he gets home from school. They don’t go grocery shopping until Saturday, so there are never any snacks in the cupboards or the refrigerator - not that he needs any. All he has is a week’s worth of homework shoved in his bag and his sketchpad with half the pages falling out.

He’d forgotten his pencils and paints in the hurry to leave and hadn’t bothered to find new ones yet. The sketchpad was full anyway.

This Friday he’s in a slightly better mood. There’d been a dog on the subway and his owner let Damian stroke him. His US history teacher let them leave early so he didn’t have to suffer through more painful inaccuracies and blatant propaganda. So, Friday afternoon is going marginally better than most, though still not well enough to stop Damian hating it. He jiggles the doorknob until the lock slides free and tosses his keys into the bowl. The lights are all off, as usual, so at first he doesn’t notice that he’s not alone in the apartment. It takes seeing the dishes drying by the sink and smelling the familiar scent of Earl Grey tea to realise and when he does, he’s immediately on guard.

Curse Grayson and his weapons ban.

His backpack could be a weapon at a push. He could throw it and the weight could knock someone out. He had pencils inside and there were over a hundred ways he could kill an opponent with just one of them. Grayson’s voice in his head whispers  _ don’t jump to conclusions  _ but what other reason would someone be in their apartment without prior warning than to kill them?

He can’t tell quite who it is. They have grey hair and a bald patch - elderly, but Damian knows that doesn’t mean they’re not a threat. They’re wearing black. They have their back to Damian and that means he can sneak up on them. His path will take him past the knife block. If he’s sneaky, and Damian is always sneaky, he might be able to grab one without the invader noticing. 

They notice. Damian is sneaky but not sneaky enough.

Damian barely sees the face. He is already moving, already fighting. It doesn’t matter.

The invader catches Damian mid-leap. They swing him around, hands around his waist, and set him down on the other side without hurting him and Damian is too keyed up on adrenaline to be shocked. He’s already moving again. They hold his wrist gently and say sternly “Master Damian, I know you know better than to treat a guest so rudely.”

Damian stops.

...Pennyworth?

The noises of the apartment that he hadn’t noticed before come back to him now his focus is not on the danger. Pennyworth has a cup of tea, made with the kettle Damian last saw back home in Gotham, and he left his sugar pot on the counter. There’s a bag on the table, packed full to bursting. There’s a noise from Damian’s room. It sounds like claws scratching at the door. He hears a whine. Damian blinks at Pennyworth slowly and turns to the door.

“Titus?” he questions. A bark from behind the door. 

Any tension in the room is broken, like a rubber band snapping back. Damian races to his room, slings his bag onto the sofa, and scrambles at the door in his haste to open it. Titus bowls him over and he laughs, high and clear like he hasn’t laughed in months. He scratches the dog’s belly, ruffles his ears, tries not to squirm at the wet doggy kisses that cover his face as he smothers Titus in love. He had missed his dog more than he could ever have expressed.

When he is finally let up, he takes a step into the room, Titus dogging his heels, and smiles as he sees Alfred the cat, sleeping on the window sill like the dignified, aristocratic beauty he is. Titus is good at bringing Damian out of his shell, making him play and laugh and run and jump. Alfred is good for calm, for serenity, for quiet moments where he needs to steady himself. Alfred the cat does not need cuddles to know he is loved.

Damian returns to the kitchen and Pennyworth has made another cup of tea, Earl Grey even though it is not Damian’s favourite and he knows it. But Damian is not rude so he takes the cup, adds sugar - brown, of course - and takes a sip. It is as good as it is possible to be. Titus, realising there would be no play time, flops on the floor with a huff. Right on top of Damian’s feet. It is a strange way to take afternoon tea, standing around a kettle on a stove and not sitting at the table with saucers and plates of cakes or biscuits, but Pennyworth is here, Damian is here, and all is right with the world.

“Did you tell Grayson you were coming?” It is, perhaps, a stupid question. Of course, Grayson knows. How else would Pennyworth have got in? But Damian wants confirmation, wants to know for sure that their new home is somewhat secure. 

“Yes,” Pennyworth says. “He thought you would like the surprise. Evidently he underestimated your reflexes.” Damian lets a small smile slip through at the praise. He doesn’t say anything though, just takes another sip of tea.

“You brought Titus and Alfred.”

“Yes. It has all been arranged with the landlord. Contrary to your beliefs, we adults  _ are  _ capable of organising things without you knowing.” It’s not a slight but it feels like it and Damian bristles. He does not, however, feel much like ruining their peace by rising to the bait. Pennyworth raises a bushy eyebrow when Damian stays silent, but does not mention it.

Damian has homework. He has a million and one worksheets, and reading, and a lab report and a large amount has to be done by Monday. Pennyworth is here, though, and Damian doesn’t want to ruin it by leaving or shutting himself away.

Grayson comes home and he is his normal obnoxiously cheerful self. His work agrees with him, Damian will admit. He smiles more than ever, has a bounce to his step that Damian has only ever seen feigned. It is pleasant, far more so than father’s absence or anger, but it takes some getting used to. Damian is still getting used to it.

Pennyworth offers Grayson tea but he declines. Grayson has always been more partial to coffee, or hot apple cider, than tea despite Damian’s attempts at conversion. They move to the living room with its thrift store sofas and second hand coffee table. Everything in their apartment is secondhand. Grayson says it makes it feel more homely. Damian always tells him it makes it look run down. Sometimes he feels bad about it: Grayson clearly can’t afford better and he has been kind enough to take Damian in. It doesn’t change the fact that Damian was raised a prince of the world. Anything would be paltry in comparison.

When it gets dark, Grayson gets up to turn on the light and comes back with the takeout menus. Damian knows this, has the routine down like clockwork now, and only gives a cursory glance before he tells Grayson he wants a primavera pizza. It is Pennyworth who wrinkles his nose as he peruses all the available options. Damian offers to share but is declined. Grayson offers to share and gets the same response. Finally, he decides upon a plain margarita pizza but does not seem happy about it. Damian has little sympathy. This is their home and their routine and while Pennyworth has always been a part of their team, he has not quite slotted himself into their little family yet. 

Pennyworth hates pizza. They know this. Pizza was contraband back home, for fear of facing Pennyworth’s wrath, but here in New York his British sensibilities take over and he submits himself to their pizza-eating ways. It is only polite. He picks his way through a slice or two and leaves the rest, as a display of displeasure. That’s fine. They’ll eat the leftovers for breakfast before grocery shopping.

Pennyworth insists on shopping with them. At first, he picks up only the best ingredients but Grayson looks horrified and it’s because of the price, Damian knows, so he slips them back on the shelf and quietly picks up a cheaper alternative.

That night, Pennyworth tries to take over the kitchen but it’s Damian’s night to cook and he is determined to see it through. He has a half-remembered recipe for ashak in his brain, and a mountain of leeks by the stove. It will either work, or fail catastrophically, but it is unlikely to poison them all so he’s willing to attempt it. Pennyworth is nosy and more of a pest than Titus who waits for dropped morsels by his feet. He keeps trying to give Damian instruction, to take the knife, or knead the dumpling dough, and Damian can do it himself; he doesn’t  _ need  _ help. It’s Pennyworth, though. He can’t just turn him away. Some of Damian’s best memories from Gotham involve Pennyworth and the kitchen. So Damian lets Pennyworth lurk, lets him try to help, and they muddle through Damian’s foggy memories together.

The ashak do not taste as good as Damian remembers but they don’t taste bad. They taste better for having been made with family.

Damian forgets about his homework until Sunday night, does the majority of it in a panic in the small hours of the morning and wakes up exhausted. Pennyworth is still there when he leaves and still there when he returns from school in the evening. He doesn’t want to ask when he’s leaving - it feels rude - but everyone leaves eventually and he’d rather know so he can prepare for it. It’s nice, having Pennyworth here with them. He does the dishes so they don’t pile up, makes sure there’s always food, remembers to pull the curtains so the light comes in during the day. It’s the little things that matter. Their life is already better now Pennyworth is back in it and it’s only been a matter of days. 

He doesn’t want him to leave.

The realisation comes all at once. It feels like Pennyworth was never  _ not  _ here, was always living with them in New York. If Pennyworth left, even though he has Titus now, and Alfred the cat, something would be missing. He doesn’t know how to quite articulate it. When Damian pictures home now, when he thinks of his family, it is no longer mother and grandfather that he sees (it hasn’t been for a long time), it is no longer father and everything Gotham had, it is New York and Grayson and their apartment and  _ Pennyworth.  _

He waits on tenterhooks until Friday where he simply cannot take it anymore and asks, over thai, if Pennyworth will be reporting back to father. Both Pennyworth and Grayson look at him utterly aghast.  


"Damian, Alfie's staying," Grayson tells him. Damian doesn't think he's ever been so relieved. 

So, Pennyworth slips into their routine, into their family, into their home and their life. The sofa gets replaced with a fold out bed until they can afford something bigger. Pennyworth stops both Damian and Grayson from working too much, or trying to slip out to check on the neighbourhood now they have left vigilantism behind. They stop Pennyworth from packing their cupboards full of food they cannot afford or throwing away "mess" that is actually Damian's homework when he has nothing else to do. There is a balance there, a harmony that wasn't there before. Grayson is much more relaxed with a 'proper adult' around to do the hard parts of parenting that he wasn't prepared for, and Damian is glad for someone who he can sit with in companionable silence (Grayson fidgets too much). They think Pennyworth is happier too. Certainly he doesn't appear miserable, but Damian is convinced they would not see it even if he was. He smiles when they come home, smiles when Grayson regales them with stories of kids being idiots, smiles when Damian shows him his most recent sketches, smiles when Alfred the cat rubs against his legs and purrs. And they are happy when Pennyworth is happy.

Their apartment is full of smiles now. It is because of Pennyworth, he is sure.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoy this!  
> Leave a kudos or a comment and let me know what you think (comments are my lifeblood. I always try to respond when I can).


End file.
